Sunday Photo Fiction – April 17th 2016

The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.

To read more, click here.


The blur of hovercars flashed back and forth, nothing but smears of light. I watched from my window. Once I’d been down there, into the midst of the blur, but no more.

“How are you feeling?” the Doctor asked with the same quiet, bored, tone as always.

“Fine.” My standard answer. I didn’t turn.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because he was guilty.”  I paused. “That is….was… my job.”

It was no longer. Cops didn’t play anymore, not unless they played somebody else’s game.  I’ll always been stubborn about playing my own game.

He moved up behind me. I knew the moment the decision was made, felt the change in him without even looking. The next moment, I felt the pinch of pain in my neck. My body flashed cold, hot. Pins and needles swept through me, losing each piece of myself inch by inch. Tongue gone, lips, harder and harder to breathe.

At least, I’d played my own game until the end.

Put that on my gravestone, bastard.




Quote For The Day 2-11-2016

“In times of pain, when the future is too terrifying to contemplate and the past too painful to remember, I have learned to pay attention to right now. The precise moment I was in was always the only safe place for me.”
― Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 7th 2016


The drive to the shipyard was nothing but headache, then we arrived, staring at the confusion of building and roads and docks.

“How do they know what to do… and where?” Wendy asked.

“What I want to know, is how we know what to do and where?” Joshua.

“What I want to know, is who they are?” Me.

Except for the abandoned cars we’d passed on the highway and here, everything was deserted.

“What I want to know is can we go home?” Phil.

The silence was enough to make me want to go home, too.

“Go left,” Me.

Wendy turned the car left, weaving in and around obstacles until the road ended at a concrete barricade. A solitary ship rolled gently at the dock.

“And she was named Rustbucket.” Joshua, of course.

“Is this smart?” Wendy.

“No,” but I got out of the car anyway. We picked our way to the gangplank and stalled. No one wanted to go first, so I went, testing each step before I moved. At the top I halted, waiting for them to catch up.

I heard the screech of tires on asphalt. Behind me, the dock lay empty. Car sounds faded into the distance.

“Well… shit.”

I stepped on board and started walking.




Writing Prompt –

“It wasn’t I didn’t want them,” he said, looking blankly out the window.

“Then why?”

“Hard to explain.”


“Because…. I could only bargain so much time.”

“Come on, that’s crap.”

He smiled a smile never reaching his eyes; limbs stiffening, face starting to tighten.

“You’ll understand soon.”

“Bullcrap. You need to support those kids. “

“I will. Soon.”

“It’s always soon with you isn’t it?” Disgusted, Michael looked away.

He watched reality ripped up his body, time marching relentlessly towards the end, the return.

“I swear….” Michael looked over at the new manikin perched awkward in the chair.


Quote For The Day 10-1-2015

  • In classical physics, the past is assumed to exist as a definite series of events, but according to quantum physics, the past, like the future, is indefinite and exists only as a spectrum of possibilities. Even the universe as a whole has no single past or history. Hawking & Mlodinow, Scientific American, October 2010.